Here There Be Qnicorns
by whoa nellie
Summary: On the eve of Picard and Vash's first anniversary Q shows up to bestow a gift. He changes Vash into a virgin and throws the couple into a medieval adventure complete with knights, castle and dragons.


Title: Here There Be Q-nicorns   
Author: Whoa Nellie (whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com)   
Series: TNG   
Rating: R   
Codes: P/Vash   
Synopsis: On the eve of Picard and Vash's first anniversary Q shows up to bestow a gift. He changes Vash into a virgin and throws the couple into a medieval adventure complete with knights, castle and dragons. 

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.   
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail. 

Here There Be Q-nicorns 

"Jean-Luc, could you please undo this for me?" Vash Picard sighed plaintively to her husband. The couple had just returned to their quarters on the Enterprise E after an evening of dinner and dancing on Starbase 219 to celebrate their first anniversary. 

Captain Jean-Luc Picard turned to see his lovely wife standing next to their bed struggling with the top clasp on the back of her evening gown. The long column of black velvet skimmed the feminine curves of her delicate frame. The slit that ran up the right side of the skirt to mid-thigh revealed a generous length of leg with her every step. Making his way over to stand behind her, Picard replied in his deepest bedroom baritone, "Of course, ma chere. It would be my pleasure." 

Vash's hands dropped to her sides as Jean-Luc began to unfasten the clasps. He nudged beneath a curtain of shoulder-length, brown hair to nuzzle the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. Her senses stirred as he trailed feathery kisses from the nape of her neck to just under her right earlobe. As he nibbled and toyed with her ear, she could feel him gently pull on her crystal-drop earring. With a giggle, she admonished him, "If you're not careful, Johnny, you're going to choke on that earring." 

"Not to worry," he chuckled softly against her neck as his hands finally reached last clasp of her gown at the small of her back. Drawing in a deep breath, he savored the sweet scent that always lingered in her silky, brunette hair. He slipped his hands inside her dress, encircling her tiny waist to caress her satiny skin. 

The warmth from his large hands as they tenderly stroked her skin caused a shiver of excitement to race down Vash's spine. However, she had something else planned for the evening. "Thank you, Jean-Luc. I can handle it from here." 

"You're so beautiful. I've been looking forward to making long, slow, passionate love to you all evening," he murmured determinedly into the soft skin of her neck. 

"At ease, Captain," Vash teased, as she quickly pulled away from his hands and spun to face him. With his sleek, muscular build, steel-grey eyes, and chiseled features, Jean-Luc looked quite dashing as he stood there in full dress uniform. Holding her gown up, she continued, "I've been saving something special for tonight and I would at least like the chance to put it on." 

Picard's gaze trailed over every curve of her shapely silhouette before returning to her vivid blue eyes. Giving her his most suave smile, he mused, "I have no idea why you bother with things that are going to end up in a heap on the floor next to our bed in a matter of minutes." 

"Just consider them various tests of your response time, darling," she quipped, patting his shoulder before heading off to the bathroom to change. As she passed the dresser, she noticed the vase that held the dozen red roses he had sent her that afternoon. She paused at the bathroom door, "I meant to thank you for the gorgeous roses." 

"You're quite welcome," he called to her as she disappeared into the bathroom. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he continued, "I noticed you had them in here." 

"Did you also notice something else about this evening, or actually the lack of something else this evening?" Vash asked. 

"Lack of something?" he inquired, sounding bewildered. 

"No interruptions. Not one single, solitary hail from the bridge all evening. It can be done!" she called triumphantly from the bathroom. "It may have taken me a year, but I finally figured out how to have you all to myself." 

"If I may be so bold as to ask, how did you arrange that?" 

Vash sounded very pleased with herself as she explained, "It was so simple really. While I was talking to Will earlier today, I steered the conversation toward the subject of the constant interruptions you and I seem to face. I told him that I bet we would not make it through tonight without you getting at least one hail. You and I both know the one thing Will Riker can't pass up is a good wager. So, I bet Will one bottle of Chateau Picard that either he or someone else on the ship would call you before the night was over. It was a bet I was counting on Will making sure he won." 

Picard sat on the edge of the bed, completely astounded for a moment. She had purposely set out to make that wager with Will. She knew it would become a matter of personal pride for Will to keep Picard himself from receiving any interruptions. This woman could talk a Ferengi into giving up all of his profits. "Vash, that was shrewd, cunning, not to mention totally Machiavellian." A smile of admiration pulled at his lips as he finished, "And absolutely brilliant!" 

"I try," she replied just before she finally emerged from the bathroom. 

"Sacre bleu'," Picard gasped under his breath as he saw Vash poised in the bathroom doorway wearing a babydoll negligee and matching panties of the palest pink. Thin straps and lace covered satin barely contained the lush roundness of her breasts. A double layer of pale pink chiffon falling from just below her bustline to her upper thigh made for a diaphanous veil over her feminine curves. The sight was a dizzying blend of naughty and nice. He let his gaze travel down the shapely length of her legs before returning to her face. In a deep, resonating whisper, he marveled, "You're simply the most alluring woman I've ever seen." 

"Thank you," Vash said quietly, flushing slightly at the intensity of his gaze and the warm timbre of his voice. Suddenly feeling shy, she demurely averted her eyes and made her way over to the dresser to idly toy with the roses. 

As she distracted herself with the flowers, Picard took the opportunity to study her. Her hair fell in a soft cascade to her shoulders, framing her rose-petal lips and the flutter of her dark lashes. Her delicate features were highlighted by the warm blush that colored the ivory skin of her cheeks. Her bashful response to his praise combined with the way the sweet nothing of a negligee charmingly revealed more than it concealed gave her an air of innocent sexuality. All at once, he pictured her as a young woman giving herself to a lover for the first time. 'Now there is an intriguing notion.' Picard thought. Vash was such a passionate lover. To have seen her take the first steps toward discovering that passion would have been an extraordinary experience. 

"Vash," he gently beckoned as he stood up and walked over to stand next to her. Tenderly, he cupped her chin in his hand and drew her gaze up to his. He stared down into her blue eyes, saying softly, "Je t'aime." 

"Je t'aime," she managed to whisper back just before his lips captured hers in an impassioned kiss. Jean-Luc moved his hand to the back of her head, entangling it in her hair, pushing her lips closer to his and deepening the kiss. His tongue plunged past her lips, claiming everything in its path. As her lips and tongue responded ardently to his, Vash's arms slipped around his neck. Jean-Luc had one powerful arm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her as her body melted against his. The clean, masculine scent of his aftershave and the sensation of the rough wool of his dress uniform through the flimsy fabric of her negligee threatened to completely undo her. 

The couple didn't even notice the bright flash of light in the room. An acerbic voice sounded in the room, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." 

As Vash let out a alarmed gasp, Picard broke off the embrace and spun to face the intruder, "Who the hell . . ." 

"Just moi," Q called out. 

"Q," Picard huffed in disgust. 

"Bonjour, Mon Capitaine, Madame Picard," Q greeted them cheerfully. 

From behind him, Vash peered over Jean-Luc's shoulder. Quickly recovering her composure, she quipped, "I suppose just killing him is out of the question." 

"But, Madame, I come bearing a wedding gift," the entity implored. 

"You leaving would be gift enough," Picard stated flatly. Vash sighed with annoyance and leaned against the dresser. 

"Ooh la la," Q crowed, staring past Picard at the very, scantily clad Vash. As she crossed her arms protectively in front of herself, he added with a salacious leer, "I most certainly did interrupt something." 

"Merde!" Picard cursed, ripping off his dress uniform jacket as he turned back to Vash. Using his body to block Q's view, he helped her slip on the jacket and quickly fasten it up. He was immensely grateful that he had chosen to wear the long crimson dress jacket rather than the shorter, white dinner jacket. With his jacket hitting her at mid-thigh, leaving her long legs exposed, she still appeared very seductive. 'At least it covers the rest of her.' Picard thought to himself. 

As much as she tried, Vash could not quite hide a small smile that tugged at her lips. Answering Jean-Luc's questioning look, she explained, "I've never seen you take this jacket off so fast." 

"He's had more than enough of a show for tonight," Picard grumbled before turning his attention back to Q. "Go away, Q." 

The entity ignored him. Instead, he cooed, "Oh Vash, I'm hurt. You never dressed, or should I say undressed, for me that way." 

"I'm sorry, darling," Vash told Jean-Luc calmly as she took the roses out of the vase and laid them on the dresser. Picking up the vase, she turned to face Q. "Get out, you despicable, wretched, intergalactic, peeping Tom!" 

The vase hurled through the air toward Q, impacting on the wall behind him in a thunderous explosion of glass shards and water. Q looked back at the wall and then at Vash. Sounding very amused, he told her, "Impressive, my dear. You went from sex kitten to hell cat in the blink of an eye. And I thought I was the quick-change artist around here." 

Reaching up, Vash tapped the communicator on Jean-Luc's jacket, "Picard to security." 

"Now, you really didn't think I would allow that did you?" Q sighed when no response came to the hail. With a snap of his fingers, the entity reinstated the vase and roses to their original condition on the dresser. 

Vash glanced back at the restored roses. Throwing her hands up in resignation, she huffed, "Okay boys, that's it! I'm not playing anymore." 

Q watched as Vash went over and sat on the bed. He turned back to Picard and chuckled, "She certainly is quick to throw your name around, mon Capitaine." 

"It now happens to be her name as well," the captain reminded Q. 

"So it is," the entity nodded. As he eyed Vash sitting on the bed attired in Picard's jacket, he smirked, "Right now, she makes your uniform more appealing than you ever did. If you ask me, that would make Starfleet a sublime recruitment poster." 

"I didn't ask," Picard answered curtly. "Is there a point to this little visit, Q, or are you here just to leer at my wife?" 

Q chuckled conspiratorially, as if speaking man to man. "If ogling Vash was the point of my visit, I would have waited before appearing. I mean, how much longer could it have taken you to remove that little pink number?" 

Quickly losing patience with the situation, Picard snapped, "Your point, Q!" 

"As I said earlier, I come bearing a gift," Q reminded him gleefully. Feigning embarrassment, he added, "I was simply chagrined that I let the big day slip by with out an acknowledgment. And I know exactly what you want, Jean-Luc." 

Picard huffed in frustration, "Q, there is absolutely nothing that I want from you." 

"Oh, but there is, mon Capitaine. A flight of fancy only I can carry out for you." 

"I have no idea what 'flight of fancy' you could possibly be blathering about," Picard retorted. 

"Why, the little daydream you were so enjoying, inspired by Vash's apparel or lack there of," Q sneered. 

Sighing with annoyance, Vash asked, "Q, just how long have you been spying on us?" 

"Long enough to know that you were worried Johnny might just swallow your earring," Q informed her. His tone turned conspiratorial, "But wouldn't you rather know exactly what the hubby was fantasizing about?" 

"After you leave, I'll just ask him," she answered matter of factly. 

"Trust me. My way will be much more fun," Q responded cheerfully. Turning his attention back to Picard, he taunted, "So Captain, are you ready to go where no man has gone before?" 

"What the devil . . ." Picard grumbled, wondering what Q was referring to. The entity had obviously been intruding upon the privacy of his thoughts. He glanced over at Vash. All of a sudden, he recalled the sight of her standing there in the delicate negligee and how he had imagined her as if she was giving herself to a lover for the first time. His expression darkened with anger, Q couldn't possibly mean . . . 

"By Jove, I think he's got it!" Q crowed, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Picard glared menacingly at the entity. It was one thing for Q to put him through these little tests, including Vash was something else entirely. He hissed, "Stay away from my wife, Q! And forget whatever twisted game you are plotting!" 

Rising off the bed, Vash made her way to her husband's side. She reached up and gently laid her hand on his cheek, "Calm down and unclench your jaw. He's simply trying to get a rise out of you." 

"No, my little turtledove, I believe that's your job," Q smirked. 

"Let it go, Jean-Luc. He's not worth it." With her hand resting on his upper arm, Vash tried to soothe her now seething husband. 

"Having him on my ship is bad enough. Having him peering in my head and in our bedroom is intolerable," Picard ground out. 

"I know," Vash nodded. Turning to face Q, she asked wearily, "Am I to presume that I'm about to be, once again, cast as the helpless, fragile damsel-in-distress in yet another little charade of yours?" 

"Don't blame me," Q protested. "It is your dear husband who is entertaining fantasies about being the one to have claimed your maidenhood." 

"My maidenhood?" Vash sounded baffled for a moment. Then she realized what Q was saying. In astonishment, Vash glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Were you really fantasizing about taking my virginity?" 

"I wouldn't call it a fantasy. It was more like a passing whim," Picard offered in explanation, his mood softened by his amusement at her surprise. 

"I see," she cooed in reply. Unable to help herself from following this further, she turned to face Jean-Luc. She reached up and splayed her hands across the expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscles through his tunic. As she stared up into his grey eyes with a come-hither expression, her tone was flirtatious. "And this whimsy of yours, does it entail you seducing and ravishing my untouched, virginal body as you introduce me to the carnal pleasures of the flesh?" 

"Absolutely," he chuckled softly as he returned her gaze and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Does that shock you?" 

"No, not really," she answered with a coy smile. "But, it has been a awhile since I've been able to see a unicorn." 

"In case the two of you have forgotten, I'm still here," Q huffed in contempt. 

Picard forced himself to drag his eyes from his wife and turn his attention back to the very powerful entity. "Believe me, Q, I'm aware you're here, painfully aware." 

"Splendid. I must admit my curiosity has been peeked. What do unicorns, a fictional Terran beast, have to do with any of this?" Q asked. 

"So much for omnipotence," Vash giggled. Turning around in Jean-Luc's arms, she leaned back against his chest and explained to Q, "In Earth mythology, Unicorns represent purity. According to medieval European folklore, the unicorn could only be seen by a virgin." 

"How fascinating!" Q declared happily just before a blinding flash lit the room. 

.................................................................................. 

As his eyes began to focus again, Picard found Vash was gone from his arms and he was standing alone in a forest. He was dressed as a nobleman from around the fifteenth or sixteenth century; black leather boots, black buckskin trousers, and a crimson velvet doublet over a white silk shirt. He noticed Q had not left out details. The doublet, which was the same crimson as his Starfleet uniform, had the Picard family crest embroidered in gold thread on the chest. There was a heavy leather belt with a scabbard around his waist. In the scabbard was a broadsword with an elaborately jeweled hilt. Hung over one of his arms was a heavy cloak of black wool. With a sigh of disgust, he called, "Q." 

"Over here, and not so loud or My Lordship might reveal our presence," Q replied from where he stood at the edge of the forest just a few yards away. 

Picard looked over at Q. The entity was dressed as a squire and was holding the reigns of a white Arabian stallion. Ignoring Q for the moment, Picard made his way over to examine the horse. It was a beautiful animal, standing about fifteen hands high with a perfect, graceful build. The equestrian in Picard had definitely taken over. Hearing the horse whinny softly, Picard ran his hand down the animal's neck and spoke soothingly "Easy boy. You're truly a handsome mount." 

"Is your wife aware of your preoccupation with these beasts?" Q asked, miffed at being ignored. 

"Oh yes. In fact, she would be rather taken by this animal. Vash claims the Arabian is the breed that best suits me and has often talked of acquiring one for me." Picard commented as he patted the horse. He looked at Q pointedly, "Speaking of which, where is she?" 

"I was wondering when you were going to ask that," Q smiled as he gestured for Picard to look past the tree line. "She's down there." 

He moved for a better view past the trees. They were on a bluff overlooking a small medieval town. The town was a fortress, completely enclosed by a twenty foot high wall. In the center of this town was a rather horrid appearing castle. Something caught Picard's attention, there was a strange creature chained in the castle's courtyard. It looked like a giant lizard, approximately the size of an elephant. However, the creature had a neck as long as a giraffe and scaly wings. Incredulously, Picard asked, "A dragon?" 

"Of course. When it comes to the two of you, I want all the trimmings. I spare no expense, so to speak." Q sounded very pleased with himself. "See, you're going to slay the dragon." 

"Oh, I am," Picard sighed as he leaned against a tree and folded his arms, "Why?" 

"Because, at noon today, the evil ruler of that kingdom, Lord Baracada, is going to sacrifice a virgin to the dragon in order to gain powers of sorcery. You're the knight that must save the maiden and take her to the safety of your kingdom. Getting into the city won't pose much of a problem, the gates are open. However, getting out will be another story. Once you've ruined Baracada's plans for the day, I'm sure that he will close the city in order to stop you from escaping," the entity informed him. 

"Baracada? Sounds to me as if whoever wrote this little fairy tale misspelled barracuda." Picard's face showed almost open amusement. "Am I to understand that Vash is the chaste maiden in question?" 

"Of course." 

"There's one small problem, Q." 

"That is, mon Capitaine?" 

"Vash is not a virgin," Picard said calmly. "I should know, after all, I am her husband." 

"Not to worry, I have restored her ability to see unicorns," Q assured him. 

"What?" Picard asked, not liking where he knew this was going. 

"I've restored Vash's virginity physically, as well as suppressing all memory she has of her own sexual activity. She remembers your courtship and love affair, but not your marriage. She has no memory of any physical intimacy with you, or anyone else for that matter," Q explained smugly. 

Picard glared menacingly at the entity, "Q." 

"Well, from here on out, you'll have to carry on without me. I have another pressing engagement," Q replied in a casual tone. "You get to rescue her, sweep her off her feet and deflower her all at once. Enjoy yourself, Mon Capitaine." 

And with a flash, Q was gone. 

"Damn," Picard cursed under his breath as he began to take stock of his situation. He checked the horse's saddlebags, finding suitable provisions and a sizable purse of gold coins. Surveying his surroundings, it didn't take him very long to spot a passable trail down to the town. He gathered the horse's reins and swung himself up into the saddle. He was pleasantly surprised to find the saddle was almost identical to his own saddle that he kept on the Enterprise. 

"Well, my noble friend, it looks like it's up to the two of us to save the fair maiden," Picard remarked, guiding the horse toward the trail. Then he spurred the horse down toward the town. 

................................................................. 

"My dear, I can sacrifice any virgin in the land to the dragon to complete the sorcery incantation. Agree to become my concubine, and I will spare you and choose another," Lord Vlad Baracada offered coarsely as he circled the attractive young woman standing in his throne room. 

"If my choice is between you and the dragon, I opt to take my chances with our lizard friend out there," Vash scoffed as she met Baracada's stare. He was a tall, thin man with very aquiline features. All dressed in black with his cloak fluttering around his heels, he reminded Vash of Bram Stoker's conception of Dracula. 

This all had a feeling of deja-vu, or maybe she should say Deja-Q. At least Sir Guy was offering marriage, but even her memory of that scenario had voids in it. How could she remember every plot twist of Stoker's tale and not remember what she was doing before Q transported her from the Enterprise. That's where she had to have been. After all, she was the head archaeologist onboard, not to mention the captain's fianceé. 

Baracada's cold voice interrupted her thoughts, "I wouldn't count on your intended coming to your rescue. Picard's probably wenching his way through some brothel as we speak." 

Although she knew Baracada was only tormenting her, Vash fought to quell a small seed of jealousy. Jean-Luc had not even kissed her, the thought of him dallying with some trollop heightened her anxiety about her own perceived inexperience. 'Stop that! Jean-Luc loves you, wants to marry you, and has told you so countless times,' she told herself firmly. Closing her eyes, she thought back to working with him to pull an artifact out of the mud pits on Cenar VII. When the damn thing finally worked lose, it sent both of them falling onto their seats in the next pit. Smiling as he flopped back into the mud, he had chuckled, 'I love you.' 

"Speechless?" Baracada jeered. 

Vash opened her eyes to glare at him, boasting with false bravado, "No. Just imagining you sliding off the blade of his sword." 

"Well, my sweet, as Picard is sliding off my sword, I'll make sure he knows you were charming to the last," he retorted. Gesturing to his guards, he commanded, "Take her to the rock." 

...................................................................................... 

Carefully hidden on one of the castle's battlements, Picard surveyed the courtyard below. At the far end of the courtyard, the dragon was pulling at one end of it's chain. The other end of the bulky chain was wound around an immense winch. Embedded in the middle of the courtyard was a large boulder, about the size of a small shuttlecraft. There was a chain with shackles hanging from the boulder. Beneath Picard was an opulent review stand, where Baracada and a few members of his personal guard were standing. A large crowd had gathered on either side of the review stand. The scene reminded Picard of descriptions of public beheadings during the French Revolution. 

"Subtle Q. Real subtle," Picard muttered under his breath, getting his first glimpse of Vash as she was being lead to the boulder. It was obvious to him that the pale pink gown she now wore was inspired by the babydoll nightie she had on when Q first appeared. The scooped necked bodice with cap sleeves was lace covered satin. Two diaphanous layers of chiffon fell from the empire waistline over the pale pink satin skirt. As the guards shackled her wrists to the boulder, the wispy layers of her skirt snapped against the rock in the steady breeze. Concealing himself in the shadows, Picard started to make his way down off the castle wall. 

Vash stared above her head at her bound wrists. If only she could pull them down to her mouth, then she could use her teeth to pull out the pin that held the shackles closed. She tugged futilely at the chain. So much for that plan. All at once, she heard a terrible mechanical grinding. She looked to see the winch slowly turning, releasing more and more of the dragon's chain. As the dragon slowly got closer, Vash thought, 'Where is Jean-Luc?' Knowing precisely who was responsible for the whole situation, she hissed, "Q!" 

"You called, my Lady?" the entity's disembodied voice asked. 

"Yes, I called! End this and put me back on the Enterprise where I belong!" 

"All in due time, dearest." Q's voice cooed. "Right now, I want you to look past the dragon to the castle wall and tell me what you see?" 

Vash stared past the dragon to see a lone, white horse standing in front of the wall. No wait, it wasn't a horse. It had a single, long horn coming from the top of it's head. Bemused, she asked, "The unicorn? What about it?" 

"Nothing, just assessing my handiwork," he replied, sounding very pleased with himself. 

"Fine. Dragons and unicorns, you get an A+ in recreating mythical beasts," she huffed in exasperation. "Now, Get me out of here." 

"I'll admit I've outdone myself, but not in creating the mythical beasts. Au revior, chere." 

"Q. Q? Q!" Vash called. No luck, he was gone. Vash glanced fearfully back at the dragon. It had traversed half the distance to her. The large monster continuously pulled at its chain, its powerful maw snapping hungrily in her direction. Frantically, Vash started pulling at and twisting in her bonds. As she paused a moment to catch her breath, a commotion in the crowd caught her attention. 

Vash nearly sobbed with overwhelming relief. With his drawn broadsword gleaming in the noon sun, Jean-Luc was storming toward her and the dragon astride an Arab charger. None of Baracada's men were following him. They were probably afraid that the over-grown gecko wasn't real selective about his meals. 

With his first pass, Picard brought his sword to bear on the chain imprisoning Vash, severing it from the stone. Pausing only to make sure that she had managed to remove the shackles, he urged, "Stay back, and use the rock for cover if necessary." 

"What did you think I was going to do, run toward it or something?" she yelled after him as he and the horse galloped off, full tilt toward the dragon. The enormous beast lowered his head to meet Jean-Luc's oncoming charge. At the last moment, Jean-Luc veered to the side, using his broadsword to slice open the creature from its shoulder all the way past its hind leg. The monster howled and began to curl itself toward its injured side. Using the distraction during his next pass, Jean-Luc brought his sword down on the dragon's neck, severing its head. Covering her mouth with her hand and suppressing a gag reflex, Vash thought, 'Okay, Jean-Luc, I think it's dead now!' 

Picard galloped past Baracada's tented review stand. Slashing through its supports with his sword, he sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground causing utter chaos. Sheathing his sword, he brought the horse to a halt in front of Vash. Reaching down, Picard took hold of her arm to quickly pull her up into the saddle behind him. "Come on, it's time to leave." 

"I take it this means you weren't serious back at Nottingham when you said that you were not going to bother rescuing me anymore," Vash quipped. 

"Now, you know damn well I didn't mean that," he sighed with exasperation and glanced back at her briefly. Placing her arms around his waist, he told her, "Hold on tight, this could get rough." 

As the pair rode toward the courtyard entrance, Baracada extracted himself from beneath his collapsed viewing stand. Struggling to his feet, he bellowed, "Seize them!" 

"Seize this, you bastard!" Vash called back to Baracada as their horse bolted out of the courtyard and onto a town street. Not willing to risk turning his head to look at her, Picard could only imagine which one of any number of obscene gestures went with those words. 

................................................................................. 

After about five minutes of riding at a hard gallop and turning countless corners, Picard brought the horse to a stop in a small, dark alley between two buildings. "We should probably stop for a moment and let the horse rest." 

"The horse?" Vash sighed wearily from behind him. As she collapsed against his strong frame, she laid her cheek against the back of his shoulder. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for this sort of hard riding." 

"No, you aren't, are you? You'd probably be more comfortable up here," he said, turning his head to give her a gentle smile. Letting go of the reins, he effortlessly lifted her into his arms and placed her in front of him, sidesaddle. "We'll head toward the large graveyard I noticed not too far from here. If we stay in the shadows, we can slow down the pace a bit." 

"You take me to the most romantic places," she cooed melodramatically as she laid her head against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the warmth of his strong embrace. 

"We can hide in one of the mausoleums I saw," Picard explained as he looked down at her. The bodice of her gown was tightly laced up the front by a pink, satin ribbon tied in a bow at the center of her scooped neckline. The bow drew his attention to the tantalizing way her chest rose and fell with each breath. Fighting to ignore the alluring sight, he swallowed hard and asked, "Vash, tell me how much you know of what's really going on here?" 

Opening her eyes, she sat up to look quizzically at him. She had no idea where he was going with this; but she answered anyway, "Besides the fact that some guy just tried to feed me to his pet lizard, I know this must be some prank by Q. In reality, you're the captain of the Enterprise and I'm the head archaeologist onboard and we're engaged to be married." 

"What is the last thing you remember before you ended up here?" he inquired gently. 

"We were out having dinner, to celebrate something," Vash replied. Sounding frustrated, she reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc. I can't remember. There seems to be blanks in my memory. I can recall every detail of novels I read years ago, but I'm unable to remember entire blocks of time from my own life." 

"It's all right. Don't try to force it," he comforted her as he reached up to tenderly push a stray lock of hair from her face. "As part of this little farce, Q has suppressed certain portions of your memory. I'm sure the memories will return as soon as this is all over." 

"Portions of my memory? For starters . . ." Vash prompted. 

Picard hesitated for a moment, but decided she had a right to know, "For starters, we're married, not engaged. We were out celebrating our first anniversary." 

"Married!? How can that be, I mean we've never . . ." Vash trailed off as she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Looking down at the ground, she murmured, "I've never." Despite her burning cheeks, she forced herself to meet his gaze, "You've never even kissed me." 

That took Picard by surprise, "You have no memory of me even kissing you?" Vash shook her head no. Wanting to know just how far Q had taken this, he asked, "Can you remember being kissed by any man?" 

"No," she answered, again looking down. 

"Damn Q's propensity for being an extremist," Picard swore to himself. Taking a calming breath, he told her, "I'm so sorry, ma chere. Q decided to make you a virgin and fabricated all this due to an idle thought I had about what it would have been like to have been your first." 

"Were you disappointed that you weren't the first?" she asked quietly, unable to meet his gaze. 

"No. Absolutely not," he stated emphatically. "It was simply a fleeting curiosity about a time before I came into your life. Nothing more." 

"So, in reality, I'm not a virgin," she murmured. 

Vash had sounded so unsure of herself, something Picard wasn't used to. Gently cupping her chin in his hand, he raised her face to his. Gazing into her blue eyes, he smiled reassuringly, "In the here and now of Q's little game, you most certainly are. So, for the time being, we will deal only with the here and now." 

"Playing along with Q usually tends to be the path of least resistance, doesn't it?" Vash smiled back bashfully. 

"He usually gives you no other choice," Picard agreed. "You all right?" 

"I'm fine," she replied. For a long moment, she was held by Jean-Luc's gaze, his handsome, chiseled features framing those intense grey eyes and the firm set of his mouth. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her pulse speed up at the thought of those lips on hers. Her senses overwhelmed by the passionate charge between them, Vash retreated. Breaking off her gaze, she shyly buried her head in his shoulder. She snuggled into the security of his embrace, feeling his heart race as he took a couple of deep breaths. 

"We should probably get underway. Are you comfortable?" Picard said softly. After all, this wasn't the best place to start anything. She nodded her head as she slipped her arms around his waist. Picking up the reins, he glanced down at the lovely woman in his arms, "You've had a rough day. You're safe now, so just relax and rest." 

A short time later, the pair rode through the front gates of the graveyard. Looking around, Vash chuckled, "This place reminds me of work, I feel like I should be setting up a site." 

"In a cemetery?" he asked as he guided the horse toward the larger mausoleums. 

"And exactly what do you think the Valley of the Kings in Egypt is?" 

"Point taken," he conceded. 

"Very few archaeology sites are able to find the actual community, most only find the society's sepulcher sites." Smiling up at him impishly, Vash couldn't help but bait him with, "Of course, you'd know that if you had done your studies at a real university." 

"My Lady is awful uppity for someone who was almost brunch for an oversized iguana," he teased back. 

"Now, I thought he looked more like a gecko," she laughed. 

"As you wish," Picard chuckled as they came to stop in front of a large mausoleum that was almost hidden behind overgrown brushwood. Dismounting from the horse, he took the stallion by the bridle. "Stay up in the saddle. Your gown and slippers are no protection from these briars. I'll guide the horse through them and into the building." 

"I need to have a little conversation with Q about appropriate field apparel," she grumbled as he led the horse into the building. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath expecting him to listen." 

Vash glanced around the inside of the mausoleum. The room was dimly lit by torches in sconces on the walls. There were three large sarcophagi in the room, one on each wall. The forth wall had a Catholic-style altar. Patting the horse's neck, she remarked, "Your typical Gothic crypt. Very homey, if you happen to be Bram Stoker or Mary Shelley." 

"We won't be staying long," Picard assured her. Suddenly, he heard movement and motioned for Vash to stay silent. Drawing his sword, he peered cautiously around the room. His deep voice resonated with authority as he demanded, "Show yourself." 

An elderly, rather pudgy-appearing monk stepped out of the shadows with his hands up, "Relax, my son. I pose no threat to you or the young lady, Lord Picard. My name is Friar Dominic." 

Picard was still slightly wary, "You know my name?" 

"Of course. The whole village probably does by now. Baracada has been cursing your name at the top of his lungs all afternoon, from what I'm told. The brothers and I at the monastery owe you an enormous debt of gratitude for dispatching Baracada's reptilian demon." With a twinkle in his eye, the friar added, "I'm sure the maidens around here are also very appreciative." 

"Jean-Luc," Vash reached down from the horse to lay her hand on his shoulder, "Put the sword away." 

Picard glanced over his shoulder at her. Due to current circumstances, he knew she couldn't have meant that as a double entendre. At any other time, he would have been absolutely certain she had. 

"I don't think killing a priest is going help our case much in the cosmic scheme of things," she said gently. 

"Of course," he nodded as he sheathed the weapon. 

"Thank you, my boy," Dominic sighed with relief and lowered his hands. "Now, you'll be safe once we get you out of the city. Baracada's hold on his throne is tenuous at best. He will not let any of his forces leave the city, especially after losing the dragon, and his sorcery abilities along with it, this afternoon. We'll hide you in the monastery until dark." 

"We have to make it to the monastery first, Father," Picard reminded the priest. 

The old priest smiled. "Faith, my son. The brothers maintain an elaborate, well- hidden network of underground tunnels and caverns beneath the city. We've been using them to help smuggle in food and goods to ease the burden of the people under Baracada's rule. We also used them to smuggle as many maidens out of the city as possible to safety at our sister convent in a neighboring town. Behind the altar in this vault is one of the entrances." Friar Dominic went to the altar and gently pulled on one of several candlesticks placed on the alter. The entire altar slid to one side, revealing the entrance to a large tunnel. Gesturing for them to follow, he continued, "Come now. We must leave for the monastery before Baracada's guards start searching the cemetery." 

With Vash still perched in the saddle, Picard took the reins of the horse and followed the monk into the tunnel. Friar Dominic pulled on a lever and the altar slid back into place closing off the entrance; well-illuminated by torches, the passage was about ten feet high and six feet wide. The old monk lead them through a complex labyrinth of tunnels for what Picard estimated was about a mile when they finally emerged into a large chamber. It looked to be a cross between a way-station and a warehouse, in one area there were several monks working with a large number of crates and another area held makeshift cots and large oak tables with benches. Picard detected a subtle, but very familiar scent. "I smell wine casks. Is there a wine cellar near by?" 

"You have a good nose. We are under the monastery and the wine cellar is just beyond that door. It was the perfect camouflage for this entrance. After all, who would ever question having a wine cellar in a monastery," Friar Dominic chortled, pointing toward a large door across the room. Clapping Picard on the shoulder, The old priest added, "Now, let's get you two rested and prepared for the next leg of your journey." 

Moving to the side of the horse, Picard reached up to span Vash's waist with his hands. "My Lady?" 

Vash braced her hands on Jean-Luc's broad shoulders as he gently lowered her from the charger to the ground. She smiled and dropped a slight curtsey at him, "Thank you, sir." 

Both Vash and Picard turned to look at Friar Dominic as they heard him issue instructions to the other monks. "Brother Calvin, please take Lord Picard's horse to the stables and have him fed, watered and groomed." 

"Of course, brother," Calvin replied. Before leading the animal away, he added with a smile, "Anything to help the Dragonslayer." 

Leaning into Jean-Luc, Vash teased quietly, "My, my, my, it looks like someone's earned himself a new moniker." 

"Vash," he admonished under his breath as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"Brother Jerome," Friar Dominic called. "Go ask Mother Agnes and Sister Rebecca to put together a satchel of essentials needed by a lady on a two day journey." 

"Yes, brother," Jerome answered before departing in search of the nuns. 

"Brother Augustine, please fetch some wine, bread and fruit for our guests," Dominic requested of the youngest monk. Augustine nodded and quickly rushed off. Friar Dominic turned back to Picard and Vash. "As soon as Brother Augustine returns with your refreshments, he and I will go check to make sure Baracada's men have already searched the monastery. Once I know everything is all clear, I'll bring you both up into the monastery. I have some maps that will help you with your journey. Also, we'll get the two of you properly married so it will be in the church records." 

"You're going to marry us?" Vash asked, slightly surprised. 

"Of course, my dear. Did you think I was going to let this dashing, young buck carry you off without the benefit of marriage? What kind of priest would I be?" Dominic answered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Raising an amused eyebrow, Picard chuckled, "Father, I'm beginning to think you've done this sort of thing before." 

"Everyone needs a hobby," the old priest laughed. Brother Augustine returned with a tray filled with fresh bread, fruit, a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set the tray down on the nearest oak table. Friar Dominic motioned to the younger monk, "Come along, Augustine. Let's leave these two to rest and eat." 

The two monks headed up to the monastery, leaving Picard and Vash alone in the large, underground chamber. As she watched Jean-Luc pour wine into both glasses, Vash asked, "I thought you said we were already married?" 

"We are, chere," he smiled, handing her a glass of wine. "However, as you pointed out earlier, it's usually easier just to play along with Q's little games." 

Taking a sip of wine, Vash nodded, "True. Is that why you so readily trusted the monks? After all, they're just as much a creation of Q's as Baracada is." 

Picard picked up his own wine glass as he remarked, "Q's intention here is not to see us running for our lives to evade Baracada's forces." 

"And his actual intention would be?" she prompted. As he took a drink, Jean-Luc eyed her meaningfully from over the top of his glass. Remembering their conversation in the alley, she fought down a blush. "Oh." 

Even though she tried to hide behind her glass as she took another drink, he caught the rosy flush that highlighted Vash's lovely features. He set his own goblet aside and stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. The low scoop neckline of the gown, combined with the way the gown's bodice laced up the front with pink ribbon provided him an alluring view. His appreciative gaze trailed down over the diaphanous layers of the pale-pink gown clinging to her feminine silhouette. Placing her glass next to his on the table, he took one of her hands in his. Raising her hand to his lips, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand and lowered his voice to a deep, resonating whisper, "I would marry you over and over again." 

The soft brush of his lips against the back of her hand felt like a lightning strike, causing a shiver to race through her entire body. As the sensation spread across her breasts, the peaks hardened pushing against the satin and lace of her gown. Her breath caught in her throat at the warm timbre of his voice and the intensity of his steel-grey eyes. With her heart pounding, she wondered how it was possible she was married to this man when the thought of his kiss alone was enough to make her weak in the knees. Looking down, she demurely averted her eyes. 

'Oh no, petite amie. There will be no escape this time,' Picard thought to himself as he released her hand. Tenderly, he cupped her chin and drew her gaze back up to his. His eyes drank in the features of her beautiful face with her blue eyes, delicate cheek bones and full, rose-petal lips. Hoarsely, he whispered, "I love you." 

"I love you," she echoed breathlessly, her eyes drifting shut as Jean-Luc lowered his face to hers. Her lips trembled as his lips brushed over hers in a barely-there promise of a kiss to come. Again, his lips caressed hers ever-so-softly. Finally, his lips claimed hers in a gentle, warm kiss. Vash slipped her arms around Jean-Luc's neck and her body melted against his. He moved one hand to the back of her head, entangling it in her hair as he slid his other arm around her tiny waist, holding her against him. She lost herself in the strength of his arms and the clean, masculine scent of his aftershave. He gradually deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth harder against hers as their heated passions built. With her whole body in a state of highly-charged anticipation, she arched into him feeling the entire length of his hard, muscular form against every inch of her own, quickly overheating body. The action did more to inflame the ache building inside her, rather than ease the sensations. 

Faced with the sweet innocence of her reactions, he fought to keep a tight rein on his own desires. The way in which her supple curves moved against him as she responded to his kiss was almost maddening. He wrapped both arms tightly around her tiny waist, suppressing the urge to explore those same supple curves. With each passing moment, his muscles tightened and his hardness grew. At this rate, he would soon be tempted to take her right there on the table. Under present circumstances, that was simply not an option. He reluctantly broke the kiss, placing several tentative kisses on her reddened, passion-swollen lips before pulling back. Her eyes still closed, Vash's skin was tinged with a flush of desire. The full curves of her cleavage rose and fell with her ragged breathing. After taking a moment to catch his own breath, he softly beckoned, "Vash." 

Vash's eyes fluttered open to gaze up at him. Her heart was pounding, she was flushed and her knees felt as if they were about to buckle under her. Gripping the hard bulge of his upper arm for balance, she swallowed and gasped, "I must have drunk the wine a little too fast." 

"Of course," he answered, carefully hiding a smile. After all, they both knew it had nothing to do with the wine. He gently helped her sit down on the bench before sitting down next to her. "We both should eat something." 

"That's probably a good idea," she nodded. It didn't take long for the two of them to consume the bread and most of the fruit. Peering down onto the tray, she was very amused to see that there was one particular fruit Jean-Luc had scrupulously avoided. With Q's little tricks having done nothing to suppress her naturally impish sense of humor, she had a very devilish thought. She kept her voice as innocent as possible, "Jean-Luc." 

"Hmmm," he replied, looking up from his wineglass. 

Emboldened by their earlier kiss and the knowledge that he had no idea this was coming, Vash picked out the largest and ripest piece of fruit in question. Holding it up in front of her by the stem, she deadpanned, "Cherry?" 

Jean-Luc Picard nearly choked on his wine as he stared at her wide-eyed. She burst out giggling at his astonished expression. Quickly recovering, Picard set his wine glass down on the table. He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, tickling her ribcage mercilessly. Laughing so hard she could hardly catch her breath, Vash squirmed helplessly in his embrace. As she continued to twist and turn in his lap trying in vain to escape his fingers, he chuckled "Eventually, young lady, you will learn to give me the respect due a ship's captain." 

"Never!" Vash panted defiantly between giggles and, finally managing to work one of her hands to his side, she zeroed in on his own ticklish spot. He jumped, but quickly grasped both of her hands in his. They both sat there, at a total impasse. She couldn't escape, but he couldn't let go of her hands to tickle her without being tickled himself. Raising an amused eyebrow, she said, "Check." 

"Check," he agreed with a smile. "Truce?" 

"Truce," she nodded after taking a moment to consider it. They both let go of each other's hands cautiously, seeing if the truce would hold. 

As Vash sat perched on his lap, Picard placed a hand on the small of her back. She was smiling at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling with playful mischief. He utterly adored her. Feeling blissfully content, he reached up to tenderly cup her cheek in his palm and said simply, "You're wonderful." 

Staring into his intense grey eyes, Vash felt that passionate charge pass between them again. She blushed at the praise, but didn't look away. Sitting on his lap, she was completely surrounded by the sheer virility of his masculine presence. The hard length of his body beneath hers was driving her to distraction. Her gaze was drawn to the firm set of his mouth. Desperately, she wished for him to kiss her again. Nuzzling her cheek against his large hand, Vash pleaded in a whisper, "Please . . . Jean-Luc." 

Even without the words, he knew what she wanted. As he used the hand that cupped her cheek to draw her face up to his, her eyes fluttered closed. His mouth captured hers in another deep, gentle kiss. Returning his passion, Vash's small hands slid up the crimson, velvet doublet to encircle his neck. A small sigh escaping her, her body melted against his own. As his lips moved over hers, he delighted in the feel of her pressed against him. Hearing approaching footfalls, Picard reluctantly broke off the kiss. 

"Someone's coming," he whispered as he gently lifted her off his lap and set her back down on the bench. Picard stood up in front of her and took on a slightly protective stance with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, just in case. He relaxed when he saw Friar Dominic come through the entrance. 

"Come along now, youngsters. The coast is clear and we have a lot of things to do," the old monk called as he gestured for them to follow him up into the monastery. 

"So, when was the last time the flagship captain was referred to as a youngster?" Vash teased under her breath as she took Jean-Luc's offered arm. 

"Not since the last time the flagship hosted Admiral Leonard McCoy," Picard whispered in retort to a quietly giggling Vash. 

............................................................................... 

Friar Dominic led them to the monastery's small chapel. Soon after they entered the chapel, Mother Agnes and Sister Rebecca took Vash over to a far corner to show her the satchel they had prepared for her. Picard was amused to note the two nuns had not limited themselves to essentials for the trip. As Sister Rebecca handed Vash a small nosegay of pink rosebuds and white lilies of the valley, Mother Agnes arranged a matching wreath of flowers in Vash's hair. Picard marveled at the delicate beauty; even though the gown and headpiece were not nearly as ornate as her real wedding trousseau had been, she was just as lovely a bride as she had been a year ago. 

"Son, you have the rest of your life to stare at her," Dominic chuckled as he clapped Picard on the shoulder. Holding up a rolled parchment, he added, "If you can possibly tear your eyes away from her for a moment, I have a map I think you really ought to take a look at." 

Clearing his throat, Picard squared his shoulders and straightened his tunic. He inwardly chastised himself for getting caught ogling a woman like a lovesick cadet, even if the woman in question was his own wife. He turned his attention to the old priest and nodded, "Of course." 

Moving to a small table in a corner, Friar Dominic unrolled the parchment for Picard to look at. The monk pointed to different locations on the map, "We'll lead you through one of the tunnels that has an opening just outside the city walls about here. As I said earlier, Baracada's forces won't leave the city, so you'll be safe once you're outside the city walls. This nearby road is fairly secluded and goes through pretty dense forest, however it will cut the journey to your kingdom down to around two days. About three hours ride up the road is an old hunting shack owned by the monastery. The two of you can find shelter there for the night. Another day's ride from there is a small village. My brother runs the village inn, you can spend the second night there. Your kingdom is another three quarters of a day's ride up the road from there." 

Friar Dominic rolled the map back up and handed it to Picard. As he accepted the parchment, Picard smiled, "The forest is dense but the terrain is pretty level so it shouldn't be too difficult a ride. Thank you, Father." 

"You're welcome, son," Dominic replied. An impish glint lit his eyes, "However, may the good Lord forgive me, I must admit I really do love to stick it to old Baracada every once in a awhile." 

Brother Calvin approached them. He handed Dominic a small gold ring, "One gold wedding ring, guaranteed to fit the bride." 

"That was fairly quick. I'm impressed," Friar Dominic replied. 

"This is the fifth one of these you've done this month, Dominic. I just decided to make things easier on myself and keep a supply on hand," Calvin chuckled. 

Picard and Vash stood, right hands joined, in front of Friar Dominic at the altar of the small chapel. As they stood there, Picard experienced a wave of deja vu. It was almost as if it was a year ago and they were standing together at the altar of the church in his home town of Labarre. 

Picard stared down into the bright blue eyes of his lovely bride. As he held her small hand in his grasp, he tenderly ran his thumb over her soft, smooth skin. The powerful timbre of his voice reverberated with his heartfelt vow as he repeated after the priest, "I, Jean-Luc Picard, take thee, Vash, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part." 

Blinking back the tears brimming in her eyes, Vash gazed up at Jean-Luc. With his sleek, muscular build and handsome, chiseled features framing those intense grey eyes, he made quite a dashing nobleman. Her heart pounded as if it would burst through her chest. Her voice trembled slightly as she repeated after the priest, "I, Vash, take thee, Jean-Luc Picard, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part." 

Friar Dominic's voice seemed to fill the small chapel, "Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." 

After the priest blessed the ring, he handed it to Picard. As he reverently slipped the ring on the third finger of Vash's left hand, Picard pledged, "With this ring, I thee wed and I plight unto thee my troth." 

Making the sign of the cross, Friar Dominic chanted, " In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." With a smile he finished, "What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. You may now kiss the bride." 

With those words, Vash turned to face her new husband. His eyes held the heated promise of a passionate wedding night. The images his gaze evoked sent a soft flush stealing over her face. 

Smiling down at his literally blushing bride, he mused that she hadn't blushed that adorably at their first wedding. Wishing he had a picture of this moment, he leaned down to brush a reverent kiss across her lips. 

.................................................................... 

Friar Dominic came to a halt near the entrance of the tunnel opening. Raising a cautionary hand, he advised in a low voice, "Stay here, I will check to make sure it is safe." 

Nodding, Picard turned to quiet the horse. Vash inched her way toward the tunnel entrance, trying to peer out. Picard unceremoniously hauled her back against him and whispered softly, "Curiosity killed the cat." 

"That's why cats have nine lives," she replied mischievously. 

"Well, you don't," he replied as Friar Dominic reappeared at the entrance. 

"All is well," the Friar told them, motioning them out of the tunnel. 

As they emerged into the night, Picard lifted Vash gently onto the horse's back. Turning to the Friar, he thanked him for all the assistance. 

"Godspeed," the Friar replied as Picard mounted up behind his wife and started slowly down the faint trail heading to the woods. 

Vash leaned back into his chest and inquired softly, "Are you planning to engage the warp drive any time in the near future, Captain?" 

"Not until we have a clear course laid in, Ensign Picard." 

Soon they were riding hard for the nearby forest. Picard slowed slightly as they entered the cover of the forest. The ride was uneventful until the wind started to pick up. Pulling her cloak tighter around her, Vash raised her voice slightly to be heard over the wind, "It's starting to get colder. Are we going to make it to the cabin before the storm hits?" 

"According to the map, we should almost be there," he replied, bringing the horse to a halt. He pulled Vash snugly against him, wrapping his cloak securely around both of them. Gripping the reins firmly, he urged the horse to his fastest pace in an effort to outrun the storm. Just as they sighted the hunting shack, the sky opened, releasing a torrential downpour. In a matter of seconds, they were both soaked to the skin. 

Reining the horse in at the front of the shack, he swung Vash down under the small roof overhanging the door. "See if you can't get a fire going while I stable this animal," he called as he rode toward the barn just beyond the cabin. 

Vash pushed the door closed behind her, muttering to no one in particular, "See if you can get a fire started. I'm only a field archaeologist, a cold, wet and tired one. What does he think I do in the field? Unlike Starfleet, I can't just whip out a phaser and light up a fire, or heat a pile of rocks or whatever it is they do to keep from freezing when they're not in their precious little starships." Carefully arranging the kindling in the fireplace, she continued to rant as she rummaged on the mantle for the tinder and flint. "I just bet that someone's flagship-size ego would be a little punctured if he waltzed in here and I had a beautiful roaring fire blazing and was sitting here basking in the warmth. Serve him right. See if you can get a fire going, my ass! I'm not the helpless heroine type, thank you very much. Q! If I ever get my hands on you, you're going to be really sorry. Q! Do you hear me? Next time I get to be an Amazon warrior and rescue him from cannibals. How long does it take to stable a horse, anyway?" Warming her hands at the now-blazing fire, she had not noticed Jean-Luc enter the shack. 

Hearing a soft chuckle behind her, she turned to see Jean-Luc in the doorway, removing his cloak. "I am fully aware of your survival skills, but tell me one thing. Do all field archaeologists talk to no one while they build their fires?" 

"Only when their intelligence has been insulted by someone who should know better. See if you can get a fire started, indeed." 

"You were right. I was wrong. I'm sorry," Picard looked around the cabin, taking in their surroundings for the first time as he set the saddlebags and her satchel in one corner. He grimaced, "Not exactly the Ritz, is it?" 

"You've definitely got a flair for the obvious." 

The small cabin had nothing more than a crude table with an equally crude bench on each side. Two pans and a battered pair of mugs sat forlornly in the center. On the opposite wall, the bed was little more than a narrow shelf covered with several rough woolen blankets. Vash was kneeling on the stone hearth of the large fireplace that offered the only source of heat and light, her still-dripping cloak beginning to steam from the fire. 

In two steps, he was beside her, gently raising her to stand and removing her cloak. "You'll get warm much quicker without this on." His eyes hardened with desire as his heated gaze slid slowly down her wet dress clinging to every contour of her lithe body. Her skin was covered with gooseflesh and her taut nipples strained against the thin, wet material of her gown. His throat ached with longing as he watched a droplet of water fall from her hair, running down her slender throat into the hollow of her cleavage to finally disappear beneath her gown. He wanted to warm the cold trail of the droplet with his mouth. Swallowing hard, he sternly banished that particular train of thought and, out of concern for her, pushed his own needs aside. After all, these were not exactly ideal conditions. The cabin was more accurately described as a one room shack, a very uncomfortable one at that. He and Vash were both cold, wet, and tired. Given this unique opportunity, he was determined to do this right. Needing to put some physical space between them, he walked over to hang up her cloak on a row of coat hooks on the wall next to the door. Stripping off his own cloak, he hung it up next to hers. 

Vash glanced over at the bed, "The bed looks too narrow for one person, let alone two. I was thinking we might be better off setting up a makeshift bed down on the floor in front of the fire." 

"Agreed. It would probably be much warmer also. The wind is pretty strong and I'm sure this place isn't well insulated," he said as he checked the saddlebags for supplies. 

Retrieving her satchel and the wool blankets, Vash set about making up a bed for them in front of the fireplace. Reaching into the satchel, she pulled out a hairbrush. Standing up, she brushed out her wet hair as she appraised the makeshift bed, "Not exactly a bed of roses, but I think it will serve our purpose." 

"It's fine," he assured her as he took off his doublet and hung it up. Turning back to face her, he fought to ignore the way the soaked material of her dress molded itself like a second skin to her feminine curves. There only so much a man could stand and she was just too tempting. "Ma chere, you might be more comfortable in some dry clothes." 

"The nuns packed a dressing gown for me, but I figured I wouldn't be using it," she flushed, but squared her shoulders and continued, "After all, you said the whole point of Q's little game is for you . . . for you to make love to me as a virgin. Once we get that over with . . ." 

"I don't give a damn what Q's intention is! I have never . . . nor will I ever . . . make love to you just to get it over with," Picard exploded, crossing the room to stand in front of her. Reining in his own frustration, he gentled his tone, "Vash, these are less than ideal circumstances. You are tired, uncomfortable, more than a little tense and these accommodations are not what I had in mind." 

"We have a nice fire and a roof over our heads. What more do you want?" Vash asked, taking in how the corded muscles of his upper arms flexed under the silk material of his wet shirt as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

"For starters, a decent bed," he stated flatly. "I'm not about to make love to you on this dirt floor." 

"Why not? You said the first place we ever made love was a cave floor on Risa. What's the difference?" she demanded. 

"First, I hadn't intended on making love to you that night on Risa. If I had, be assured we would have spent that night in my room at the resort. Secondly, you weren't a virgin when we made love on Risa," he answered a little more sharply than he had meant to. Their lovemaking on Risa was definitely not where he wanted his imagination to go just now. 

"I'm not really a virgin. This is just one of Q's little jokes," she snapped. 

"Nonetheless, Q's meddling has left you as untried as any virgin. And I simply refuse to take the situation lightly or to proceed with any undo haste. I intend to do this properly, which means having the patience to wait until I'm sure you're comfortable, relaxed and prepared for it," Picard told her. His tone became somewhat self-depreciating, "Not that I've ever made a hobby out of this sort of thing." 

"Untried, patience, preparing for it," Vash muttered to herself and rolled her eyes. "Sounds like you're planning to break a horse." 

"The analogy has been made before," he began. 

"Don't go there!" she warned, cutting him off abruptly. 

Picard took a deep breath, "I really think it would behoove us both to wait until we get to the inn tomorrow." 

"Behooves who? It's been my experience that around here being a virgin only gets you fed to dragons. Which seems like a pretty good reason to lose one's virginity, if you ask me," Vash shot back. As far as she was concerned, this little game had gone on long enough. 

Picard's breath caught in his throat at the fire that flashed in Vash's blue eyes as she argued with him. She was so beautiful and her challenges always affected him like a powerful aphrodisiac. His body ached to start her lessons in earnest. 'No! Not here.' he told himself firmly. His voice was rough with desire as he reminded her, "It's unnecessary, the dragon is gone. You're safe, Vash. You're my wife and I would willingly give my life to protect you from any danger." 

For a brief moment, Picard thought that he had won as Vash glanced downward with a sigh and nodded. Looking up at him through her lashes, she wet her lips. She reached up to splay a small hand across his chest. He realized she had not capitulated, only switched tactics. Vash's voice was as soft as her caress, "Take what is rightfully yours, Jean-Luc. Make love to me." 

'Merde, she is real close to breaking my resolve,' he thought as he briefly closed his eyes. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it against his chest. Opening his eyes, he brought her hand up to brush a kiss across the back of it. Letting go of her hand, it took all of his self-control to shake his head slightly and murmur, "No." 

"You don't want me." Vash, hurt by the rejection, began to turn away from him. She let out a startled gasp when Jean-Luc reached out and quickly caught her. His powerful arms encircled her waist, his large hands finding the roundness of her derriere. Cupping the supple flesh in his hands, he yanked her roughly against him. As she stared up into his face, she saw an expression of fierce, carnal heat that started her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Make no mistake, Vash . . . I want you." Picard's voice was a deep, resonating growl. His mouth descended on hers in a savage kiss. His tongue plunged past her parted lips, decisively staking claim to everything in its path. As his mouth took command of hers, he forced her supple curves even tighter against him in a futile attempt to ease his desperate need for her. Dropping the hair brush, she wound her arms around to splay her hands against the back of his head to pull him closer. He deepened the kiss as her soft moan of surrender drove his urgency up another notch. His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth searching for her tongue to coax it out of hiding. 

Vash's head swam with each new sensation from the passionate onslaught, the heat of his hands through the wet material of her skirt, her entire body crushed against the hard length of his, and his mouth and tongue possessing her. His tongue, dear God, the things his tongue was doing to her. Shyly at first, but then steadily getting bolder, her tongue began to answer the demands of his. Her entire body felt as if it were made of liquid flames and her small hands moved down to clutch his shoulders tightly. Just when she thought she could stand no more, he broke the kiss. 

Pulling back slightly, he looked down at her. Gasping for breath, Vash's amazement showed in her eyes. Her lips were passion-swollen and a heated flush had swept up her ivory skin from underneath the neckline of her gown. He muttered, more to himself than her, "This is playing with fire." 

Vash was dazed, Jean-Luc's presence was playing havoc with her senses. Held captive by his gaze, her voice quavered slightly, "Jean-Luc." 

"Never doubt how much I love you and desire you," Picard rasped, his own breathing as ragged as hers. Pulling himself out of the blue of her eyes, he forced himself to let go of her and stepped back. After taking several deep breaths, he continued, "Why don't you go ahead, put on some dry clothes and get settled in for the night." 

Turning , he headed over to the door. As she watched him start to put his cloak on, she asked, "Where are you going?" 

"I'll be just outside the door," he assured her. Right now, he required a distraction, a very uncomfortable one. "I saw a pile of logs on the porch. I'm going to split some more firewood for tonight." 

"But, it's cold out there and pouring rain," she emphasized as she straightened her dress. 

"An age-old solution for an age-old problem," Picard quipped with a wry smile before walking out the door. 

As the door shut behind him, Vash sighed with exasperation and pulled the dressing gown out of her satchel. Unlacing the satin ribbon that held her bodice closed, she gazed down at the fire. 

Outside, in the cold, driving rain, Picard reached down to pick up an ax that was leaning against the front of the cabin. As he straightened up, he found himself eye level with the small window on the cabin's front wall. Inside, he could see Vash untying the ribbon as she stood in front of the fire. 'Jean-Luc Picard, you're a masochist,' he thought to himself. 'No amount of sports statistics or cold water will help you if you're going to stand here gawking at her.' Just as he was about to turn away, Vash rolled her shoulders allowing the dress to fall to the floor. He just stood there, transfixed. She was radiant with the warm glow of the fire washing over her ivory, satin skin and the feminine curves of her nude body. He breathed, "Heaven help me." 

"She is built like a brick house, isn't she? Why haven't you popped the cork on that sweet little bottle of cherry wine," Q commented lewdly from behind him. 

Picard spun around brining the ax handle up, cracking Q underneath the chin. The impact sent Q flying backward off the porch where he landed with a satisfying splash in a large mud hole. The entity cried, "Hey Picard! You hit me, you've never hit me. If I were a human you could have cracked my jaw; maybe even killed me." 

Glaring down at the entity, Picard's voice was iced steel as he warned, "Watch your mouth." 

"Fair enough," Q replied without any real rancor as he got up, the mud miraculously disappearing. "It still doesn't explain why you're standing out here in the rain." 

"Splitting some logs for firewood," Picard explained as he set a log up on its end. After testing the blade, he swung the ax, splitting the log with one powerful stroke. 

"I go to all the trouble of setting up this fantasy for you and all you can do is play with wood," Q sighed with exasperation. "So, when are you going to get on with it?" 

"My relationship with my wife is no one's business but our own," Picard stated flatly as he set up another log. "And we will 'get on with it' at a time of our own choosing." 

As he watched Picard split another log, Q retorted, "It's your fantasy. Have it your way, but I can't wait around. Other Captains to see you know." 

Q disappeared in a flash of light. Picard looked up from his work just long enough to mutter, "Then may God save the Fleet." 

Inside the small cabin, Vash let out a yawn and snuggled down in the blankets in front of the fire. As she watched the flames dance, she could hear the steady rhythm of Jean-Luc chopping wood outside. Reassured by his nearby presence, she let the sound lull her to sleep. Hours later, Vash drowsily opened her eyes to see Jean-Luc sitting stretched out next to her, studying the map by firelight. She noticed several things, he had placed himself between her and the door, the door was bolted shut, and his sword was laying just on the other side of him. Sleepily, Vash murmured, "Jean-Luc." 

"Chere," Picard whispered, smiling down at her. Her white cotton dressing gown was a high necked and ruffled everywhere. After earlier this evening, he was extremely grateful for its very chaste appearance. 

With a sigh, she said, "I'm sorry. You were right." 

He arched an amused eyebrow and teased, "Which means?" 

Raising herself up on one elbow, she retorted, "Maybe I wasn't as right as I usually am." 

"Get some rest, Vash," he chuckled. Patting her hip, he added, "Trust me, tonight is only a temporary reprieve." 

"Jean-Luc." 

One look at her expression told Picard what he needed to know. He rolled up the map and set it aside. Laying down next to her, he gently pulled her into his arms. She snuggled up against him, settling herself against his chest. He was about to whisper goodnight only to discover she had already fallen back asleep. 

.............................................................................................   


The next morning, Picard finished saddling the horse and walked back into the cabin. Standing in the doorway and sounding very pleased, he remarked, "It's a perfect day for a ride, sunny and warm with a light breeze." 

Dressed again in her light pink gown, Vash glanced up from where she was folding the last of the blankets. "Good. I'm almost finished here. I wanted to leave the place the way we found it." 

"First of all, this place isn't real," he chuckled. Looking around the cabin, he added, "And second of all, you now have it neater than it was when we got here. Let's get underway." 

Vash quipped, "Are you going to be one of those husbands that, at the beginning of a family holiday, stands at the front door with all the luggage shouting: Let's go, let's go, let's go!" 

"Could be worse. Could be: Move it, move it, move it," he retorted good-naturedly as she made her way over to the doorway. 

"Not unless you want to lose it, lose it, lose it," she challenged with an arched eyebrow. 

"You win," Picard conceded as he followed her out the door. Gently, he lifted her up onto the horse's back and swung himself up in the saddle behind her. Picking up the reins, he urged the stallion down the path. 

A little past midday, the pair rode into an almost picturesque clearing. With lush green grass and fragrant wild flowers, Vash thought it seemed like something out of *Alice in Wonderland*. Looking down at the map, she leaned back against Jean-Luc. 

"So how much further do we have to go?" 

"About fourteen kilometers," she replied rolling the map back up and putting it away. 

Reining the horse to a stop, he looked around the meadow, "I think we should stop here to eat and rest." 

"I was hoping you'd say that," she sighed, watching him as he expertly dismounted from the saddle. 

"Actually, we've made better time than I expected," he said as he reached up to span her waist with his hands. 

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vash smiled as she slid into his grasp. 

"As it was intended," he replied lowering her to her feet on the ground. 

She paused and then asked, "Jean-Luc, have we had this conversation before?" 

After thinking for a moment, Picard chuckled, "Indeed we have. A long time ago." 

"Okay, just checking." Vash pointed toward three, large oak trees near the center of the field, "How about eating in the shade of one of those oaks." 

"Sounds fine. Take the food and a blanket and pick the spot. I'm going water the horse just over there at that stream and then I'll join you," he replied. 

As Jean-Luc tended to the horse, Vash found just the right spot for their picnic. It was not right up against the trunk of the largest tree, but still well within the shade of its branches. Carefully, she laid out the blanket and the food for their lunch. She sat down on the blanket, her legs curled up beneath her. As she waited for Jean-Luc, she picked a daisy that happened to be nearby. Staring down at the flower, she began to pluck its petals, one by one, chanting, "He loves me . . .he loves me not . . . he loves me . . . ." 

Unnoticed, Picard stood behind her watching, totally amused by the scene. Vash was one of the foremost experts in Interstellar Archaeology and there she sat engaged in the ancient schoolgirl custom of ritualistically and methodically destroying a flower. Quietly, he moved to kneel next to her. 

"He loves me not," Vash pouted as she tugged the last petal from the daisy. 

"He loves you," he assured her, pulling the now bare stem from her grasp and tossing it aside. As she turned toward him surprised, he leaned down to quickly capture her lips with his in a soft kiss. Breaking the kiss, he quipped, "However, I'm sure that daisy feels quite differently." 

"Oh, you're so rotten. Sneaking up on me that way," she complained as she playfully swatted at his shoulder. 

"Sorry," he laughed with absolutely no remorse as he sat down next to her on the blanket. 

After they had finished their meal, Vash packed up the food while, next to her, Jean-Luc lay on his back, dozing. In the heat of the day, he had opted to take off the heavy doublet, leaving on the silk shirt. She glanced over at the Arabian charger, who was grazing on a patch of tall grasses not to far away. Inspiration struck. Looking around her, she spotted just the right thing and picked a long foxtail that was nearby. The good captain was just too tempting a target. With a sly smile, she used the bushy tip to flick once at the bottom of his earlobe. Jean-Luc shifted a little. Still he looked far too comfortable and she just couldn't have that. Vash briefly tickled his chin with her new weapon. He shook his head slightly. She tapped the tip of his nose with the foxtail. Still seeming to doze, he absently raised a hand to swat at it. Ultimately, she could not resist temptation and brushed the soft tip down along his bare scalp. 

'That's the final straw, pun intended,' Picard thought to himself. With the agility of a jungle cat, he sprang. Throwing himself toward her, he reached out to capture his lovely tormentor and pin her to the blanket. However, she just barely managed to evade him. Laying flat on his stomach, he could only watch as she rolled to her knees and then rose to her feet in a graceful series of fluid movements which was no small accomplishment in a full length gown. Sticking her tongue out at him, she bolted for the nearest tree. As he rose to his feet, he chuckled, "Impudent wench!" 

Giving chase, Picard pursued her in and around the three oak trees. After circling the second largest tree for the fifth time, he finally apprehended his quarry. Vash let out a squeal as he swept her into his arms, trapping her between the tree and himself. They were both laughing as they tried to catch their breath. As he gazed down at her, Picard realized that the bow at the top of her bodice had come undone during the chase. With every breath she took, the lush curves of her breasts pushed at the satin ribbons, loosening the lacings. The sight caused his playfulness to give way to feelings that were much more primitive and insistent. Spanning her small waist with his hands, he calmed her giggles by claiming her mouth with his in a gentle kiss. 

As he kissed her, Vash reached up to splay her hands across the hard expanse of his chest. Her hands slowly traveled up the corded muscles of his chest and shoulders, exploring their masculine strength through the thin material of his silk shirt. Once again, shivers of excitement raced through Vash's entire body. As the sensations spread across her breasts, the peaks hardened pushing against her gown. Pressing her mouth harder against his, she slid her arms up to encircle his neck. When he broke the kiss, her arms held his face within a hairbreadth of her own. Breathless and flushed with arousal, she pleaded, "Oh please . . . Jean-Luc . . . kiss me." 

"I believe I just did," Picard teased in a rich, bedroom baritone, staring into her vivid blue eyes. 

Sounding almost bashful, she murmured, "Like last night." 

Her sweet presence was playing havoc with Picard's ability to concentrate and it took him a moment to realize what she meant. Capturing her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, he slipped his tongue past her lips to gently stroke and caress the warm, moist cavern. Slowly, his hands slid up her body to cup the full curves of her breasts through the thin material of her gown. He heard her moan softly as his thumbs drew deliberate circles around the hardened peaks. 

The heat of Jean-Luc's strong hands caused the taut nipples of Vash's breasts to tingle. As her lips and tongue answered his, she felt as if every bone in her body had melted. She wanted more and deepened the kiss, tentatively nudging her tongue past his in her own erotic search of his mouth. 

Picard felt the muscles of his body tighten with each passing moment. Enjoying her naively passionate response, he acquiesced, giving Vash complete control over the kiss. His hands found the top edges of her gown and pulled the sides apart; the untied ribbon slipping easily through the eyelets. He felt her body tremble as his hands moved to cradle her bare breasts, the hardened peaks pressing against his palms. 

Breaking the kiss, Vash whimpered and her head rolled back against the tree. She arched into the heaviness as Jean-Luc's thumbs caressed her aching nipples. Her arms fell heavily to her side. Needing to hold him closer, her arms encircled his waist, keeping him near. 

"You're so beautiful," he breathed as his gaze swept over her breasts with their lush roundness and ivory skin tipped in deep rose. Taking advantage of the exposed curve of her throat, he laid a fiery trail of kisses across one of her bare shoulders. Giving into an erotic urge, he traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue just before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage. 

Vash gasped as the sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Her arms slipped from his waist, her hand brushing past his hips to discover the hard evidence of his need. Completely fascinated by her newest discovery, Vash continued to explore his inner thigh. His rock hard body strained impressively against his buckskin trousers, pressing against her small hand. Her fingers would stray slightly, only to hear him gasp as her hand returned to the center of his desire. She murmured to herself, "It's so large." 

"Ma chere, you've just found the perfect thing to say to a man," he chuckled into the soft skin of her neck. Vash had never before mentioned that she thought he was well-endowed. Of course, he had never asked. As he pulled back slightly to look at her, her expression instantly told him she had not meant to say that out loud. Before she could say anything else, his lips covered hers in a deep, passionate kiss. 

Feeling reassured, Vash broke the kiss. Her hand still resting on his inner thigh, she guilelessly whispered, "I did this?" 

"Uh-huh," he muttered before stealing a quick kiss. 

"How?" 

"Seemingly at will," he remarked with a small smile. It was obvious from her increasing boldness that his bride was starting to understand the power she wielded over him. 

"Kissing you?" Vash pressed him for details. 

"That," Picard nodded. 'Those,' he thought as he glanced down at the full curves of her breasts that he still had gently cupped in his hands. He realized how close he had come to making love to her right there in the woods. Wanting to regain control, he stepped back slightly and moved his hands span her waist. His voice was still husky as he explained, "Ma petite, depending on the situation, it could be any number of things; a passionate kiss, a certain expression on your face, the way you walk or toss your hair, even the scent of your favorite perfume." 

"That's not entirely helpful," she pouted. 

"My apologies. Now, will you please stop tempting your poor husband, at least long enough for him to get you into a suitable bed?" he teased. 

"Killjoy," she quipped as she began re-lacing her bodice. 

"So noted," Picard deadpanned before gently adding, "We really should be on our way, so if you will fold up the blanket and get the food, I will get the horse." 

"All right," Vash gave him her most devastating smile then made her way over to the blanket. 

Letting out a deep breath, Picard turned to slump back against the nearest tree. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away a thin film of perspiration. Even at her most innocent, Vash was going to be the very death of him. He decided this whole situation should be filed under 'be careful what you wish for.' 

............................................................................. 

They arrived at the small inn early in the evening. The inn keeper and his wife were an older, amiable couple. They seemed to take great delight in catering to the new arrivals, serving them a delicious home-cooked meal. 

As Picard and Vash finished their meal, the inn keeper's wife approached. With a motherly smile, she took Vash in hand, "Come along my dear, I'll take you up to your room. I had my girls prepare a nice hot bath for you." With a dismissive gesture, she ordered Picard, "You, go with my husband. He will show you where you can clean up. You're not going anywhere near this sweet girl unshaven and smelling like a horse." 

"Yes, ma'am," Picard quipped as he watched the older woman whisk Vash off. 

After lounging in a rose scented bath, Vash stood in front of the bedroom's large stone fireplace brushing her hair dry as she waited for Jean-Luc. The most luxurious one in the small inn, the room had a large, mahogany four-poster bed with soft, white cotton bedding trimmed in dainty, eyelet lace along with a down-filled mattress and pillows. A small table and captain's chair sat under the room's small window. On the table sat two goblets, a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. The heavy oak door opened and standing in the doorway was a clean-shaven Jean-Luc, still dressed in his black buckskin trousers and crimson velvet doublet over the white silk shirt. 

Placing her brush on the fireplace mantel, Vash smiled at him, "I take it this means you've passed inspection?" 

"It's a good thing my father was such a traditionalist and insisted that both Robert and I learn to shave with a straight razor," he said as he shut and locked the door behind him. He turned to look at Vash, finding himself captivated by her. Her silky, brunette hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, perfectly framing her blue eyes and delicate features. The white cotton dressing gown she was wearing was designed to be held close by six satin bows that ran down the front from the throat to the waistline. Tonight, however, Vash had not tied the first three bows, leaving the ruffled gown to fall open until the fourth bow that lay just at the cleft between her breasts. The fourth bow acted as an irresistible lure, beckoning to him to uncover the familiar sweetness hidden beneath. 

"Jean-Luc?" 

Her voice startling him out of his own thoughts, Picard told her candidly, "You're a very beautiful woman, Vash Picard." 

"Thank you," she replied quietly, blushing slightly at the praise. Changing the subject, she glanced around the room as she asked, "Now, are these accommodations more to your liking?" 

"They're fine," he chuckled at the hint of exasperation in her voice. Taking off his belt and scabbard, he hooked them so his sword hung from one of posts at the head of the bed. 

"Claiming your side of the bed?" Vash bantered. 

"I always sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door," he replied as he removed his doublet, laying it across a small stool next to the bed. 

"And the side arm?" 

"Usually a small hand phaser locked away in my bed table." Tugging the silk shirt loose from his waistband, he teased, "All the better to protect you with, my dear." 

"I see . . ." Vash broke off, watching as Jean-Luc casually unbuttoned the silk shirt. She found herself thinking back to that afternoon and the feel of those large, capable hands caressing her soft skin. He seemed unaware of her attention as he peeled off the shirt and laid it on the stool with his doublet. Her eyes drifted over his broad shoulders, past the well-defined muscles of his chest, the bulging biceps of his upper arms and down along the tapering lines of his torso to the taut strength of his stomach. She yearned to let her hands roam over those firm, muscular planes. Every movement he made revealed the tightly leashed strength contained in his sculpted muscles. Mesmerized by the sight of his lean, hard body stripped to the waist, she breathed, "Oh my." 

Hearing her, Picard looked over to catch her wide-eye gaze travel over him. As her eyes locked with his, she bit her lower lip. His body responded ardently to the naked emotions emanating from her blue eyes. Vash blushed and turned away, looking down into the roaring fire. Walking over to stand just behind her, he lowered his head to gently kiss her cheek. Detecting the slight fragrance of roses, he asked softly, "Roses?" 

"Used to scent my bathwater," she murmured, her insides turning upside down at the sound of his bedroom baritone. 

"Vash, look at me," his voice was gently beckoning as he took a small step back. She turned toward him, but with her eyes still downcast. Cupping her cheek with his palm, he slipped his thumb under her chin to bring her gaze up to his, "Petite amie, you're going to have to trust me." 

"I do," she whispered resolutely. With her heart pounding in her chest, her voice faltered, "I want to make love to you but I don't know or can't remember how . . . " 

"Hush," he placed his finger against her lush lips to silence her. Tenderly stroking her cheek, he told her, "Tonight, allow me to make love to you. Relax and let yourself respond to my lead, as if we were dancing." 

As Jean-Luc lowered his face to hers, Vash's eyes fluttered shut. He worshipped her delicate features one by one dropping reverent kisses on her forehead, each eyelid, across both cheeks, and, finally, the tip of her nose. He grasped her tiny waist with his large hands and moved his lips over hers for a sweet, romantic kiss. As his warm, moist mouth settled over her lush, full lips, her knees gave way to the erotic onslaught of his nearness, her hands coming up to clutch his broad shoulders. Jean-Luc pulled back, breaking off with several brief kisses. Her attention was riveted on the man in front of her, thrilling at the breadth of his shoulders compared to her tiny palms. She let her hands glide down the masculine slope of his shoulders to linger on the bulging biceps of his upper arms. The play of the strong muscles beneath her fingertips stirred her senses. Her hands journeyed back up to his shoulders, only to slide down the muscular wall of his chest stroking the rippling pectorals through the coarse chest hair. 

Picard fought to keep his burgeoning passions in check, wanting to allow her to explore at her own pace. As her thumbs rubbed innocently over his hardened nipples, a small groan escaped his lips. His shoulders jerked as he swiftly controlled the shudder of need that ripped through him at her touch and reminded himself that his wife had always been a quick study. He wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulling her soft, supple form to him and capturing her mouth with his in a deep kiss. His tongue began a thorough search of the warm, moist cavern. 

As her lips and tongue responded to his, she was very aware of her breasts pressed up against the expanse of his chest. The butterflies in her stomach turned to shivers of desire, the sensation spreading throughout her body causing the rosy crests of her breasts to harden. As her arms came up to encircle his neck, she lost herself in the strength of his arms and his clean, masculine scent. When his mouth finally released hers, she was gasping for air. 

Compelled by the alluring way the thin cotton moved over the lush curves of Vash's breasts as she struggled to catch her breath, Picard reached up to slowly begin untying each satin bow of the dressing gown in its turn. Huskily, he informed her, "You won't be needing this." 

"Jean-Luc," she stammered apprehensively as her arms fell to her sides. 

"Shhh, angel," Picard quieted her. Reaching the last bow, he leaned in to claim her lips with his, calming her fears with his quiet strength. He heard her soft sigh as she abandoned herself to his kiss. His mouth slid from hers, moving to explore the soft skin of her neck. He spoke in a deep, resonating whisper, "I intend to make long, lingering, passionate love to you, until you're oblivious to everything but the pleasure our bodies bring to one another." He brought his hands up to push the cotton gown off her shoulders. "My beautiful bride, so breathtakingly lovely, I've been longing to cherish every inch of your exquisite body." As he bared the feminine slope of her shoulder, he brushed his lips against the creamy, ivory skin and murmured, "You're so soft, like warm satin." His hands trailed down her arms as he slowly slipped the gown lower until it fell to the floor to pool at her feet. "With such beautiful breasts." He continued to nuzzle the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder while he set about untying the drawstring of her white, ruffled pantalets. Slipping the pantalets past her hips to drop to the floor, his hands lingered over the supple contours of her back side, "And perfect, graceful curves." 

Her entire body flushed with excitement as she felt the tender warmth of Jean-Luc's strong hands over her skin, drawing the gown and pantalets from her body. Her trepidation was subsiding as she began to fall under the persuasive sound of his masterful voice. 

His lips covered hers in a fiercely possessive kiss, his tongue plundering the depths of her mouth as he crushed her soft, supple curves against him. Her arms encircled his neck as she returned his passion. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back from her. Effortlessly, he swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the bed. He rasped hoarsely, "Bedtime, fair maiden." 

Vash buried her head in his shoulder listening to the rapid pounding of her own heart. She welcomed the reassurance she found in the strength of his arms, the solid expanse of his chest, and the clean, natural, masculine smell of him. Gently, Jean-Luc laid her down on the soft bedding. Desire smoldered in his steel grey eyes as he quickly stripped off his boots and trousers. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his body and her eyes went wide with astonishment. Looking up at him, she stammered, "That's huge. It's never going to fit." 

"It always has before. And if you're not careful with those kind comments, by the time we get back to the Enterprise my male ego will be huge," he chuckled softly, as he moved to kneel on the bed next to her. 

Inquisitively, Vash reached out with her hand. Jean-Luc closed his eyes and groaned as his body leapt at her touch. She delighted in his reactions as she experimented with different rhythms. 

He opened his eyes to see the mischievous expression on Vash's face. 'The little minx, quick study indeed,' he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he gently captured her hand and moved it away. "You can play later, chere. Right now, I have a mission to complete." Feeling her tremble with nervousness, he slowed his pace to rebuild her passion and make her forget her fear. He moved over her, grasping each of her small hands in his and spreading their arms to either side. "That's it, just take a deep breath," he coaxed as he nuzzled her sensitive skin. Releasing her hands, he moved back slightly to give himself room to tantalize and torment his nervous bride until she was lost in the sensations. 

Lowering his face to hers, Jean-Luc began to nibble at Vash's lips with brief, feather-like kisses. The teasing nips made her yearn for more. Her skin tingled as his large hands slid up her stomach to rest just below the full curves of her breasts. Covering her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss, his hands cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the hardened peaks. Vash reeled from the onslaught of sensations. Heated waves of arousal caused a tight knot of desire in her stomach by the time his mouth finally released hers. Breathing hard, Vash looked up to see Jean-Luc studying her face. Leaning in, he placed an open mouth kiss on the hollow of her throat, flicking his tongue very rapidly against the pulse point. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back on the pillow, softly moaning. 

Picard's mouth made its way down the silken expanse of her skin to the full curves still cupped in his hands. His lips imprisoning the stiff nipple of one of her breasts, he leisurely swirled his tongue over the taut peak. Vash moaned his name as she held his head with both hands, pulling him even closer. Savoring her impassioned reactions, he nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly. 

"Please . . .Oh Jean-Luc," Vash whimpered mindlessly, her arms now down at her sides, hands clutching at the sheets. Her entire body felt as if it was made of liquid flames. Jean-Luc's fingers stroked her with the skill of a virtuoso, taking her to near insanity. "Ohhh . . . Please . . . it's too much." 

"Not nearly," he breathed in her ear, nipping at the sensitive earlobe as he continued to arouse her. He carefully slipped a finger inside, finding the expected barrier. Mindful of the boundary, his fingers continued to caress and fill her erotically. Knowing her body's rhythm as if it was his own, he took her just to the edge and tethered her there. As her hips started to move against his hand, he growled with masculine satisfaction, "Right there, chere? . . .Oui . . .right there." 

Jean-Luc's erotic ministrations set every nerve in Vash's body on fire. When his hand suddenly left her, she moaned in confusion. "Jean-Luc?" 

"Let me in, Vash." Picard commanded gently as he moved to cover her body with his own. 

"Jean . . ." Vash's wavering voice trailed off. The hard length of Jean-Luc's body weighed her down, pressing her into the soft bedding. She gasped at the erotic pressure of him pushing against her. Her arms encircled his neck and her eyes locked with his as she pleaded breathlessly, "Please, Jean-Luc . . . do it now." 

"Look into my eyes, ma chere. Trust me," he whispered in a soft, bedroom baritone. Giving him a small smile, she nodded and grasped his broad shoulders. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her neck and murmured into the soft skin, "Vash . . .my sweet, sweet Vash." 

The pain was quick, sharp and then subsided. She took comfort in his masculine presence and the weight of his body pressing hers into the soft bedding as her body adapted to his. This new and exciting sensation was now fueling her desires. Moving restlessly beneath his long hard form, she purred, "Jean-Luc?" 

Picard lifted his head to stare down at her, his grey eyes filled with loving concern, "Are you all right, ma petite? Did I hurt . . ." 

"I'm fine," she assured him, tenderly wiping the perspiration from his brow. Encircling his neck with her arms, she gazed up at him through her lashes. In a soft, shy voice, she whispered, "Make love to me, Jean-Luc." 

"Je t' aime," he whispered, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. Never breaking the kiss, he began moving in and out of her softness in a slow, steady pace. As her movements fell into step with his, he reveled in the waves of pleasure that washed over him. His lips and tongue mimicked his body's deep caress of the beautiful woman beneath him. He felt her body tightening around him, drawing him in deeper and deeper. He could sense her impatience as the supple curves of her body instinctively molded to his. He gradually increased the rhythm and she matched his movements, the urgency overtaking both of them. Breaking the kiss, he raised his head up to look down into her lovely face. As if she heard his unspoken command, she opened her eyes. Not breaking stride, he watched her eyes fill with wonder as she arched herself toward him, her entire body shuddering as she lost herself in her first release. 

Vash collapsed into the soft bedding, spasms and tremors of pleasure still racing through her body. She looked up to see Jean-Luc smiling at her, appearing insufferably satisfied. Still breathless, she teased, "You seem rather pleased with yourself, Captain." 

"Not with myself, with you," his voice was husky with desire as he corrected her. "I've never seen anything as beautiful or as erotic as you are at the peak of ecstasy." 

"Je t' aime," she replied, blushing at his praise. She glanced up at him coyly from the corner of her eyes. "I take it this . . ." she clenched herself around him, delighting in his surprised groan, "means we aren't finished yet?" 

Out of concern for her, Picard pushed his own desire aside. Tenderly, he asked, "Are you sore, chere?" 

Stretching indulgently, feeling the brief spark as her hips moved slightly, she purred, "Not nearly enough." 

Smiling at her characteristic response, Picard rewarded her with a hot, deep kiss full of the promise of passion yet to come. Moving one hand down to the small of her back, he pulled her hips tighter against his own. Breaking the kiss he murmured, "well, in that case," and swiftly rolled so that he was lying on his back and Vash was staring down at him with an astonished gaze. "You may indulge yourself." 

With her hands splayed across the hard expanse of his chest, Vash pushed herself to a sitting position. Watching his reaction carefully, she slowly raised herself up almost pulling completely away from him, pausing a moment before slowly lowering herself back down. With a ragged breath, Jean-Luc grasped her hips. Immediately, Vash clasped his hands in hers and spread them to either side of his body. "Relax, my love. That's it, just take a deep breath." Rolling her hips in a circular motion, she cooed, "Feel how we fit together." 

Hearing his own words thrown back at him, he muttered softly under his breath. 

"What was that?" she inquired sweetly as she rolled her hips again. 

"Witch, I said witch," he gritted through tightly-clenched teeth. 

"Sure, that's what I thought you said," she chuckled at the effect she was having on Jean-Luc and the heady sensation of power that it gave her. 

"Vash . . . s'il . . . vous . . . plait," he panted pleadingly. 

Once again bracing her hands against his chest, she continued with her torturous, deliberate movements. She felt his hands move back to her hips and his powerful thrusts matching her every stroke. Vash clenched her fists, curled among the coarse hair of his chest, as the hard knot of desire drove her to a cadence of furious intensity. She closed her eyes as the urgency blossomed. "Jean-Luc!" 

Vash collapsed against his damp chest. As her ragged breathing rasped in his ear, his own body still craved release. He gave in to his urge and rolled, pressing her back into the mattress and growling, "I need you." 

Nipping at his earlobe, Vash wrapped her legs around his hips, tacitly encouraging him on. 

Needing no further urging, he set a rhythm of intense hunger. His mouth claimed her lips in a searing kiss just as ferocious as the way his body was possessing hers. Like a mirror image of his own need, she matched him motion for motion. All of his control was lost to the burning pleasure he felt as her body moved in perfect synchronization with his own. 

Once again, Jean-Luc was taking her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy. As an explosive release tore through her, she arched toward him crying out, "Ohhh my God . . . Jean-Luc . . .it's happening again!" 

"Yes . . .Oui . . .Yes." His roar of conquest merged into a feral duet with her cries of surrender as his own powerful release ripped through him. 

She welcomed Jean-Luc's weight as he collapsed against her. Gasping for breath, she wondered if her quaking body and racing pulse would ever calm back down to normal. As their breathing slowed, she nuzzled his shoulder and commented, "That was definitely the 'O' in Oh my God." 

"So I heard," he sighed contentedly, as he felt her small hands roaming over his back. 

"And, we do this all the time?" she marveled, enjoying the play of his strong muscles beneath her fingertips. 

He raised himself up on his forearms and gave her a wry smile. "As often as I can talk you into it." 

Vash's hands drifted down to the muscular expanse of his chest, her fingers running idly through the coarse hair. She glanced up at him through her lashes, "Of course, I suppose I never try to talk you into it." 

"Lets just say you never have to talk very long," Picard replied as his appreciative gaze traveled over her. She was always so beautiful after lovemaking, with a rosy flush that highlighted her ivory skin, her lush lips swollen from his kisses and her dark hair fanned out across the pillow. 

Vash couldn't help herself from following this further. "These brief conversations, have they happened anywhere interesting? Like your readyroom, the holodeck . . ." 

"The readyroom was my idea. However, the holodeck was all your idea. I'm still astounded that you modified that Dixon Hill program so that . . ." he trailed off as he saw her intently curious expression. With a rueful chuckle, he rolled off to lay on his back next to her. "You're going to be the death of me, chere. The last thing I should do is give you any ideas. After all, you'll have your memory back soon enough." 

"Well, I'm sure I leave you with the time and energy to make it to the bridge," she teased. 

"Barely." 

"Are you implying I'm good at this?" she baited impishly. 

"Three times right out of the starting gate?" He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'd say that makes you something of a natural." 

"I think that has more to do with the jockey involved," Vash giggled. Playfully swatting at his arm, she lamented, "Now look, you even have me making those damn horse analogies. And my inner thigh muscles are still trembling." 

"I'm not surprised. We've both had quite a workout." Picard pulled the covers up over them. Drawing her into his arms, he gently kissed her forehead as she snuggled into his embrace. "We should probably rest, since we have no idea when Q will decide to end this little game." 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Vash asked with a drowsy smile. 

"I think the answer to that is obvious," he replied. Watching her experience passion for seemingly the first time had been more wondrous than he could have ever imagined. However, he was not about to admit that out loud to Vash while there was a chance Q might over hear. 

.............................................................................. 

"Of course he enjoyed himself," Q's voice rang out just before the blinding flash of white light. Picard and Vash were back in their quarters on the Enterprise and everything was just as it had been before. Vash was standing in Picard's arms, leaning back against his chest and wearing his uniform dress jacket to cover her pink, babydoll nightie. Q stood across the room from them with a smirk on his face, "And now we're all right back where we started." 

With a soft moan, Vash sagged in Picard's embrace. Instantly, he swept her tiny frame up into his arms. "Vash?" 

"I'm all right, Jean-Luc. It was just a brief wave of dizziness," she assured him, hearing the unmistakable alarm in his voice. As he walked over to the bed, her arms encircled his neck and she gave him a naughty smile, "That, and my legs aren't real steady yet." 

Setting her down gently on the bed, he asked, "Your memory?" 

"Weird, but back. After all, how many women have two first times?" Vash smiled up at him as she stroked his cheek with her hand. 

"I could fix that," Q offered, "By making her forget all the others." 

"NO!" Picard spun to face the entity. Regaining his composure, he added, "You've done quite enough already." 

"I was only trying to be helpful," Q bemoaned. 

"Helpful?" Picard echoed, "Then be someplace else." 

"And your thoughts, Madame Picard?" the entity inquired. 

Vash leaned back on the pillows with a satisfied smile, "That it was a nice, uncharacteristically pleasant surprise from you and it would behoove you to leave before the afterglow fades." 

"As you wish, my lady," Q bowed to Vash before disappearing in a flash of light. 

"He left. Just like that. He left," Picard noted in amazement, turning to look at Vash. She hadn't heard him. She was curled up in his jacket, sound asleep. 

**FINIS**   
  


*This story was originally posted to alt.startrek.creative on March 20, 1999. It has been edited to fit Fanfiction.net's new guidelines.   



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